


Villages

by pchberrytea



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Many Thoughts On Toasters, Trust Issues, babies?, but not too much Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pchberrytea/pseuds/pchberrytea
Summary: R.J. MacCready wakes from another nightmare and decides to take a walk to ease his nerves, only to end up more nervous than before. He learns to let go of his fears and trust in his "village" a little more along the way.
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Villages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adventuresofmeghatron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adventuresofmeghatron/gifts).



What was that saying? “It takes a village,” or something like that, and the sentiment behind it wasn’t much different from how MacCready had lived in Little Lamplight. Honestly, he’d never really expected to end up living in that kind of community again. Not like this, anyway. 

Sure, Sanctuary was nice, but he sometimes wondered whether it was _too_ nice - nice enough to put a big target on the place. In his experience, the good stuff like this didn’t always last. Not the warm beds or safe places, the Grognaks read to little voices asking for “one more page!” before lights out. 

Those were the thoughts that haunted his nightmares, at least. It had been a long road to get here, but somewhere along the line he’d ended up _liking_ the place, even if it was filled with weirdos and misfits like Mama Murphy that always seemed to stare right through his soul… 

In spite of that, he liked it enough here to put down roots when he finally got Duncan crossed over into the Commonwealth, enough to call it _home_. Enough to expand his family beyond that, even if that part might not have been intentional. 

Eh. At least it wasn’t a village of kids having to take on the responsibility of raising other kids. 

With the promise of sleep long behind him, he heaved a sigh and leaned forward to reach for the hat and coat that hung on a nearby chair. Slowly - glancing back to be sure that Nat was still curled up sound asleep. 

_Fuh...frick._

His movement had stirred her. Maybe. Her eyes were still closed… 

He stood there beside the bed blinking in the dark and she groaned a bit, eyebrows drawn together like she was worried or in pain or something. He leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead after a couple of minutes watching her and whatever it was passed. When she let out the tiniest, most adorable snore he’d ever heard in his life, his muscles sagged in relief. 

“Sweet dreams, songbird,” he whispered, so quiet that it was just above a breath. He wasn’t planning on waking her up, not when she was busy growing a whole human in there. With his rifle slung over his shoulder he tiptoed quietly around the bed, only stopping to give Dogmeat’s ears a scratch on his way out the door. “Keep an eye on her, buddy,” he added, and the dog answered him with a huff before resting his head back on his paws. 

He figured he’d head down to the river. Take a walk, have a smoke to ease his leftover nerves a little. Besides, sometimes it helped to keep his own eyes on the horizon - he’d prefer it if he had one up on whatever danger might decide to head this way. 

“Morning, MacCready.” 

Ah, great. Speaking of danger, the resident toaster was around, too. _That_ made him feel better about being out here in the dark. 

“Morning, Danse.” 

Even though his words dripped with sarcasm, he managed to fight off an eye roll and wave at the guy. Honestly, it was just that he still wasn’t completely over that whole “synth” thing, even with the Institute out of the way. He was _trying_ to trust him, though, even if part of the reason was just that he didn’t want to get whacked over the head with a rolled-up old copy of the Bugle for being a jacka- 

He sighed. A jerk. 

Danse nodded in acknowledgement and took back off on his jog or whatever it was that he did before the sun came up and Mac went on his way, wondering why the heck anyone would ever go running on purpose. 

Mac worked his way down the street and towards the cul-de-sac, figuring that he wouldn’t have to make small talk with whoever was posted at the bridge if he went around the back way through all of the dead hedges and trees. Not that he couldn’t keep up in conversation, or anything. It was just likely to get boring, or _personal_ , asking him about Nat and the baby… 

_Ugh_. 

Wasn’t he here to walk off those nerves? 

He shoved past the thoughts while he shoved past the brambles and down towards the river bank where he usually posted up. There was a large, smooth rock just past where the brick crumbled from the riverwalk where he sometimes liked to sit and smoke - often enough that he started to wonder if his butt was starting to wear a spot in the stone. His “spot” gave him a decent enough view of who was coming and going, too, which was a plus. 

It’d be even better if it were a little higher up, but maybe that was just the sniper in him. 

He let out another sigh and pulled a cigarette from his pack to light while his eyes scanned the back woods - nothing. Then, over toward the backyards that had been cleared to grow tatoes and corn - nothing. Then, he looked across the river towards the gas station. 

He hadn’t even gotten his cigarette lit and it was falling from his mouth. It didn’t take too long for that guard he’d been avoiding - Preston, it looked like - to ring the alarm bell. Mac dropped flat on his belly against his rock to get a better look, and a better aim, at whatever assho- _scum-_ were trying to get the drop on all of ‘em. 

Maybe he was right about that whole “target” thing. He hated being right, especially when “being right” meant big bands of raiders rolling in to take you for all that you were worth. At least Red Rocket had machinegun turrets on the roof to help out… 

_Had_ machinegun turrets. 

Mac watched through the scope as smoke billowed up from across the river where the raiders had blown them up. Pieces of junk. To make up for it, he lined up a shot and dropped one of them, pleased that the steadiest hands in the Commonwealth had chalked up another kill before the idiots had the chance to make it to the bridge. 

“MacCready!” Danse called from a little ways behind, stomping his way past those backyards and down the hill toward the riverwalk, firing stray lasers off toward the mob. Had he been jogging to the garage to suit up, or what? And, more importantly, what did Danse want _now_? 

“Yeah?” he yelled back over the sound of flying bullets. 

“You need to fall back!” he ordered, and Mac tried to ignore how annoying it was. 

“The heck for?” 

Danse must have still had too much Brotherhood in him or something. Couldn’t the guy tell that he was busy _aiming_? Not everybody did that whole “too much bravado”, spray and pray thing. 

“The baby!” 

He tried again to ignore the soldier-boy’s commands and got another raider’s dome lined up in his sights before the words really started to sink in, and suddenly the “steadiest hands in the Commonwealth” weren’t so steady. 

“What do you mean, the baby?” he asked, like some kind of idiot. He knew _exactly_ what Danse meant. His mouth ran dry and he wobbled, missed his shot, shook while he tried to line everything back up. 

“She’s having the baby.” 

Christ, is that why she was groaning in her sleep? No. No _way_ , this had to be another one of his nightmares. He aimed off into the raider mob again, deciding that he was going to dust as many of these scumbags as he could manage before the nightmare ended the way his nightmares always did. He fired another wobbly shot, then another before he was being dragged to his feet by Danse. That guy’s grip was too tight, and the metal hands on Mac’s shoulders were far too cold to be anything but real. 

“FUCK!” he yelled, almost straight into Danse’s face. Yeah. He said it. He probably shouldn’t have said it, but _fuck_ it. 

He was gonna puke. 

“Get out of here,” Danse ordered again, and as much as MacCready hated being bossed around, it was almost nice to have someone calmer than he was to tell him what to do. Just this once, and only because he still felt as though the wind was knocked out of him. “We’ll take care of the rabble.” 

“How do I know that?” 

“You’re just going to have to trust me.” 

Trust was a big word, but Danse almost looked sad, and Mac had no other choice. 

“Y-yeah.” 

Danse took off toward the others that were defending Sanctuary, and Mac still didn’t have the feeling in his legs back when he started to stumble his way back up the hill toward the houses. The riverside silt caved beneath him with every step he took, almost like the dirt was trying to drag him down, but he wasn’t about to let it. 

He needed to get to Nat. 

Everything seemed to happen at once when he made it to Curie’s little clinic. The door flew open for MacCready to find Dogmeat standing guard, and Shaun and Duncan grabbed his arms and practically dragged him inside. He vaguely remembered a “Hello, Monsieur,” from Curie and his nervous joke of “you picked a great time to go into labor” was met with a glare, right before Nat was grabbing for his hand and squeezing the life out of it. _Ow_. 

His stomach did backflips worrying about what was going on outside while he stayed next to her and whispered words of encouragement, but at some point he was going to have to let it go. Not move on, just...trust. He’d have to trust the “it’s going to be alright, kid” coming from Mama Murphy knitting something way off in the corner somewhere. 

As soon as he started to maybe accept that, as soon as he’d come to realize that the gunfire had quieted down outside and the sun had risen, it was all over and he was kissing Nat. The boys were bouncing around to see the new family member, and there was a _baby_ in his arms. 

He’d almost forgotten how small they were. 

And maybe Sanctuary wasn’t too good to be true. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to trust the “village”, even if it was made up of misfits and weirdos, of good dogs that stood watch over the kids, and of toasters that stood guard for them all on the clinic porch. 

**Author's Note:**

> Little gift fic from a thing I did on Tumblr. Hope ya like it!


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